


Roses

by RooOJoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Cookies, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Smut, Christmas Tree, F/M, Paris (City)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-13 17:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16896495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RooOJoy/pseuds/RooOJoy
Summary: “Sometimes, love isn’t what we expect it to be, and more often than not, it doesn’t happen how we think it will.”





	1. Holiday Request

**Author's Note:**

> A Christmas Drabble, that decided for itself (I attempted to argue, but I'm a pushover) to spin into five short parts. This was written for Facebook group, Harmony & Co., and their Advent Collection. 
> 
> My forever gratitude to Rosella Burgundy for her endless time, support, and love to not just this story, but to me as well.

* * *

Roses

by RooOJoy

Chapter One: Holiday Request

* * *

_Knock, Knock, Knock_

Hermione heard the sound on her door, but she was currently in the loo and in no way shape or form able to get to the door. “Hold on a second,” she shouted across the flat.

_Knock, Knock, Knock_

The reverberations against the wood sounded again. Rolling her eyes and cursing under her breath, she wrapped a towel around her body and made her way towards the noise. Flinging the door open a bit harder than she would have otherwise, she immediately recognized the dishevelled man on the other side as her best friend.

“Harry,” she answered happily. “What are you doing here?”

He stared at her, eyes a bit wide in surprise, but all she noticed was the hollow and darkened marks beneath his lashes.

“Harry?” she questioned again. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just looked around sheepishly as if he was making sure they were indeed alone. “Uh, sorry to catch you at a bad time . . . I uh, can come back in a bit once you’ve dressed.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Come in.” She moved from the doorway and held it open for him to come in. “I just got out of the shower. Make yourself some tea, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Quickly, she changed into a pair of cotton trousers and comfy, oversized sweatshirt. Her heart ached for the man waiting for her in her living room. She noticed the haunted look in his eyes had grown and it worried her. Running a wide tooth comb through her wet curls, she wondered why he was here. They hadn’t spoken much since he was working all the time.

Ten minutes later, she walked back to the living room. He was sitting on her sofa, a mug between his palms. “I made you a cup too,” he said, gesturing to a steeping tea on the table in front of him.

Hermione took in his appearance again. This time she noticed more than his eyes - the way he slumped against the cushions and avoided her eye contact was a sure sign that something was amiss.

“Okay, spill it, Potter. What’s going on with you,” she demanded, in her very Prefect voice.

Smiling at her tone he set his tea down before turning in his seat and pulling a leg up onto the sofa with him. She sat next to him and mirrored his position so they faced each other. She waited for him patiently, knowing he would talk eventually.

“Well . . . Gin and I broke up,” he told her after a few moments of silence.

She could feel her eyes widen and her mouth drop open in surprise. She wasn’t sure she could trust her voice, so instead, she leaned over and wrapped her arms around him. He hesitated for a moment before returning the embrace and resting his head lightly on top of hers.

Pulling away after a few seconds, she asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He ran his hand through his fringe, making his already messy locks stand on end. Shrugging his shoulders, he began, “There really isn’t much to say, I suppose. You know things have been hard for me lately.” She nodded in agreement, but kept quiet so he continued. “I guess I work too much, and she is away a lot too for Quidditch. We sort of stopped trying as hard to impress the other.”

Hermione nodded in complete understanding. The same thing happened to her and Ron a few years previously. Their relationship wasn’t necessarily the same as Harry’s and Ginny’s was - they really weren’t ever on the same page from the beginning. They had tried though, and in the end, their friendship prevailed, and luckily they were able to keep it that way. She had noticed things beginning to change for Ginny and Harry for a while now. Yes, Ginny travelled frequently, but Harry had begun picking up extra assignments - something Hermione had noticed, but knew that Harry didn’t divulge to his girlfriend that he was volunteering for them. Harry had confided in her that he and Ginny just didn’t have the same connection. It seemed that, to him at least, Ginny had always been infatuated with Harry from a young age - in a fangirl way, and once they were together without threat to pull them apart, the spark just wasn’t there.

They continued to sit together, sipping their tea. Hermione listened patiently while Harry unleashed what he needed. When he seemed to be done, she asked, “Are you okay?” It seemed a like a stupid question, but she felt it was the one needing to be asked.

He smiled at her, not the bright happy kind he gave her when he was about to take off on his broom, but a genuine smile nonetheless that warmed her heart. “You know, Hermione, I really am. I feel almost relieved now.” He hesitated, looking as though he wanted to ask her something.

“What is it, Harry?” she asked him, concerned.

Hesitantly he met her eyes. “Well, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I stayed with you for just a bit?” he asked, his tone between pleading and hopeful.

The bubble of laughter at his innocence came without her approval, and between teary eyes, she answered, “Of course you can, Harry. I don’t mind at all. The second bedroom is just sitting empty.”

The look of relief on his face was evident. “Thanks,” he said warmly. “Ginny didn’t want to go back to the Burrow, and I really didn’t want to stay with Ron and his new girlfriend. I told her I’d find somewhere to crash until I can find my own flat.”

“No worries at all, Harry. Stay as long as you like. It’ll be nice to have some company.”

Harry was unpacking his belongings in his new bedroom when Hermione decided take-away would be a perfect dinner for their first night as flatmates; plus, it was Saturday and she didn’t feel like cooking. Rifling through her stack of menus, she decided Harry’s favourite was in order - Thai green curry for him and mango red curry for her. Twenty minutes later, the knock on the door announced the arrival of their food, and she inhaled the heavenly aroma.

“Harry, I ordered dinner. Come eat with me.”

Emerging from his room, he looked at her gratefully. “Is that Thai I smell?”

Smirking at him, she swung the bag carefully back and forth enticingly. “Of course it is. Come on, let's start a movie while we eat.”

She had to admit, sharing her space with Harry felt almost natural. She had always been comfortable around him, and after spending a year on the run and living in a tent together, she was definitely used to his habits. However, she noticed that without the constant stress of fighting for their lives, he was more laid back and easy to be around. He seemed relaxed, and honestly, she hadn’t seen him this way in months, maybe longer.

“So, what’s on the work agenda for the rest of the year?” she asked, as their movie finished up.

He began stacking their plates, and packing away the food containers. “Well, actually, I’m pondering over maybe taking a step back for a bit. I’ve been over-working, and now I understand why. I’d like to just take a bit of a break.”

Shocked by his answer, she blanched a bit. While she did feel he was working too hard, she had never been one to tell someone they shouldn’t be. She, herself, worked fifty to sixty hours a week; even if ten to twenty of those were at home. She strived to do her very best, and would never tell someone not to.

“Well, what will you do?” she asked him.

Harry stood, dirty dishes balanced in his hands as he made his way to the kitchen. She followed him, waiting for his answer.

“I don’t really know right now. I’ll have to talk to my boss on Monday, but I don’t think it will be a big deal really. I’ll just not sign up for the extra patrols. I’d love to maybe play some pick-up Quidditch games, sleep in sometimes, stay up late,” he paused and winked at her, and she rolled her eyes in response. “No, really, I just want to decide in the moment. It’s not like I’m quitting my job, I just don’t want to be so busy . . . I want to just _be_ for a little while.”

It wasn’t something that she understood herself, but she loved Harry and knew he needed some time to see where he was headed in life. Pretty much since the end of the war four years ago, everything had been decided for him. They had attended their final year at Hogwarts, he went into Auror training right afterwards, and had been working for the Ministry ever since. He hadn’t taken one break at all. Even Hermione took a year and a half off after their N.E.W.T.s to travel to Australia for her parents. The longer she pondered over his decision, the more she found she was really proud of him. He was finally putting himself first, instead of doing what was expected of him by the wizarding world.

“Harry James Potter,” she said fondly, “I am so very proud of you.”

* * *

First things first, he wanted to go see Hermione. He was excited about his new plan of action. He had thought a lot about it the following day that he and Ginny broke up. Staying with Hermione just felt natural and right, so he wasn’t surprised at all when he woke up the next day with her making breakfast and humming a sweet Christmas tune in her snowflake pyjamas. She was making crepes in the skillet and smiled happily at him.

“Hungry,” she asked him. Nodding his head, he sat at her kitchen table as she set two down in front him, one filled with marmalade the other with hazelnut crème.

When she sat down with him, he had the sudden feeling that he just didn’t want to go back to work the following day. He knew he needed to, obviously, but there was a part of him that was calling to just do something reckless, to just get out of London and be a bit crazy. It was the Christmas season after all, and he did have quite a few weeks holiday pay awaiting him. He internally decided that he was going to request to have the next two weeks off, heading back to work right before the New Year.

Now, he stood in front of her open office door. She hadn’t noticed him standing there, and he hesitated a bit nervously for what he was about to ask her. He wasn’t sure why he was apprehensive, this was Hermione of course, his best friend, but he couldn’t shake the jitters in his gut. He really, really, wanted her support in this.

Finally, he rapped his knuckles on the frame of her door. When she looked up at him, he was momentarily relieved by her genuine smile.

“Harry, hi. What brings you by? Come on in,” she greeted, gesturing for him to take a seat across from her.

“Well,” he started, pulling the chair out and sitting down. “I have some exciting news to share with you.”

She put her quill down and steepled her fingers under her chin. “Go on, do tell.”

The flutters were back, and he ran his hand through his hair in nervousness. “Okay, here goes. You know how I told you I was going to take a step back from work?” he asked her. When she nodded, he continued, “Well, I decided to take off the rest of the days leading up to Christmas, and I really want you to take them off with me,” he rushed through the words.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she bit her lower lip. He had realized years ago that her tormented lip was a tell that she was thrown off her guard, and her brain was moving faster than most. “Harry, this is a shock . . . uh, what prompted this?”

“I haven’t taken time off since the war. I need a break, and honestly, I really don’t want to be alone right now. I know for a fact you have holiday days piled up as I did. Let’s take them,” he explained, leaning forward awaiting her reaction.

She worried her lip more, but her eyes never left his own. He held her contact, willing his eyes to tell her how important this was to him. She scrutinized him, and he waited patiently for her response. “What do you have in mind of doing?”

He looked down at his clasped hands, his lips pulling up at the corners in pure relief - she was considering it. “Maybe just get out of the city for a day or so, do some Christmas shopping, just do whatever we want,” he told her, meeting her face again and shrugging with nonchalance.  

Her eyes were alight with excitement. He wasn’t sure if he had won her over or not, but by the look on her face, he believed he did. He assumed it wouldn’t be so easy, but once again, she had stunned him. How, after all of these years, did she still have the ability to do that?

“Okay, Harry, I’ll spend the next,” she paused looking at the calendar on her desk, “the days leading up to Christmas with you. I’ll have to submit my request to my boss, but I’m sure it will be just fine. We are never busy around the holidays.”

Harry clapped his hands together loudly. “Perfect, and formally you will need to submit the paperwork, but I may have,” he slowed his words, afraid she might not like the next thing he said, “already secured the days off for you.”

He was right, she was definitely pissed off. Shite, he should have kept that part to himself. It’s just that it was too easy to drop by her boss’ office after he put in his request, knowing that the man would easily grant Hermione the days off, whether she asked for them or The Boy Who Lived did.

“Harry Potter, what makes you think that is, in any way, okay?” she asked, the pink on her cheeks becoming darker as she talked more. “That is absolutely . . . Oh, I will make you pay for this, you know.” She stood and walked to him, pulling him from his seat and marching him to the door. “You better have some good idea to make it up to me over the next coming days. Now, go, before I change my mind. And you’re in charge of dinner tonight,” she finished loudly before closing her door a little more firmly than necessary.


	2. Pine or Spruce?

* * *

She had to admit, it was going to be pretty nice to just wake up whenever she wanted in the morning. It wasn’t that she really needed a break, but it had been over a year since she’d taken more than a few days off. It was the look in Harry’s face when he asked her. He was so nervous, and she could see in his eyes how important this was to him. She’d followed him to much less pleasant lengths, so helping him this way was going to be a much easier ride, she hoped.

Still a bit put off by him securing her days off without asking her first, she huffed to herself. He must have been pretty sure of himself to get her to agree, either that or that desperate. If she were being honest with herself, she didn’t really understand why she had agreed so quickly. It went against her better judgement and her normal behaviour, but it was just an easy decision to make when her eyes had been locked with his. Harry needed her, and she would be there for him.

She had just changed into her pyjamas for the evening, a long sleeved waffle knit shirt and a pair of old jersey shorts, hoping to just chill for the evening, maybe watch a movie or read a book. She wasn’t necessarily tired and the more she pondered the more she realized, she could do whatever she pleased, she didn’t have to get up for work the next day. Making her way from her bedroom, she decided a glass of wine was in order. What she was not expecting, was to walk into her living room to a twinkle of hundreds of Christmas lights. Harry stood under the archway to the kitchen using his wand to manoeuvre the lights at the peak where he couldn’t reach, and then using a sticking charm to keep them up.

“Harry, what’s this?” she asked, a huge smile growing wider on her face. It was absolutely brilliant, just so much fun; she immediately felt happy and excited for the holiday season.

He returned her joy with the same enthusiasm, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Do you like them? They’re Muggle of course, but I saw them in the department store and couldn’t resist.”

“I do like them. Actually, I love them, they’re perfect.”

His eyes lit up at her answer. “Oh good, because I was hoping tomorrow we could go get a tree,” he asked, as he turned around to finish sticking the last of the strand around the base of the wall. “It would look good over in that corner, but we’d have to move the furniture around a bit. Is that a problem?”

Hermione wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen Harry like this. Sure, he was excitable as a boy, but as they had grown, the pressure of his responsibilities had made him need to grow up much faster than he should have needed. Plus, he had never had much joy surrounding him as nearly everything that came into his life was swiftly ripped from his grip without him having a say. While she could admit that she was extremely happy to see this side of Harry, she was also just a bit worried.

“Harry, are you sure you’re okay?” He looked at her, a frown on his lips and his eyes downcast like a wounded puppy. She backtracked quickly. “I mean, I love the lights, and you seem so happy right now. I guess I’m just worried that you’re not processing everything. Your whole life has just changed in less than seventy-two hours,” she reasoned.

He sighed and sat down on the loveseat. She waited while he gathered his thoughts. “I have moments that I don’t feel so well. However, I want to be okay, so I am choosing to live in the moment and find happiness where I can. I feel like I forgot how to do that with Gin. It’s not her fault by any means, but it seemed a chore versus just having fun.”

Hermione sat on the edge of the coffee table, her hands resting on her knees as she listened. “I just don’t really remember a carefree Christmas. There were times at Hogwarts and some at the Burrow, but now that I really think about it, it all seemed on the surface. I want to try it differently this year. No expectations, you know?”

“I think you’ve been through a lot, we all have. It’s no one’s fault, but I do believe that we all have our ways of dealing with it. I think you’ve covered your pain up, and now that it’s not as raw, you are just trying to find yourself.” She reached out and entwined her fingers with his. “I am here for you to do that. I kind of like your ‘no expectations’ theory.” He raised his brows at her response, and she laughed lightly. “I know, I know, not what you would expect from Hermione Granger, the girl who has everything always planned, but you know what Harry Potter, you make me want to try things differently. It’s not like I’ve got anything really exciting under my current plans. I still work for the same department where advancement happens as slowly as flobberworms eats lettuce. I have no love life in any way, and I don’t even really do anything besides work. We’re young, let’s act like we are, even if it’s for a few days.”

He squeezed her fingers and looked up to her, his green eyes lighting up mischievously. “Does that mean we get to pick out a tree tomorrow?”

She laughed, pulling him to his feet and leading him towards the kitchen by their clasped hands. “Yes, it does. I know this place that I used to go to with my parents when I was a kid. You get to chop it down yourself, but tonight we will drink wine,” she finished proudly.

* * *

 He woke up early, the excitement, he didn’t know where it came from, was bubbling like a hot cauldron. Whether it was the fact that he was free to do whatever he pleased today, or if it was the idea of spending the day with his best friend, he couldn’t shake the giddiness, and quite honestly, he didn’t even think about it. It was a feeling he had really only felt while flying, and he craved for more. He tried to roll over and go back to sleep, burying his head under the pillow, but after only a few minutes, he tossed the covers aside and decided to get ready for the day.

After a shower, he realized Hermione still wasn’t awake. They had stayed up late, finishing an entire bottle of elf-made wine and talking about things. Their conversation flowed freely, and he realized it had been some time since he had just sat with someone and had a real talk. They discussed everything from the funny moments of their school days, Harry teasing her again about _spew_ , to the more serious events of the recent past.

Hermione seemed to think that Harry needed to talk about his relationship, or the ending of it, with Ginny. It’s not that he didn’t need to talk about it, he just really didn’t have much to say. There were no hard feelings and they both felt relieved by the separation. In fact, Harry shared with Hermione that after he had left her office yesterday, he went to talk with Ginny. She, too, felt like it was for the best and while she didn’t want them to not be friends, she felt it was best for them to take a bit of a break from spending any time together. Harry took that as a hint to stay away from the Burrow for Christmas. He couldn’t blame her for her request, and it did sting a bit, but Hermione’s response that she too would rather skip the Weasley dinner was reassuring.

Hermione revealed to Harry a bit more about the ending of her relationship with Ron. She assured him that it did get easier to be just friends, but the beginning was quite awkward. After that, they talked about their favourite Christmas activities. Harry didn’t have much experience, except for what he got to participate in at Hogwarts. He loved listening to all of Hermione’s stories. Her cheeks were tinted pink from the alcohol and her eyes were wide with emotion as she explained all about baking cookies and building a gingerbread house, wrapping presents, reading The Night Before Christmas on Christmas Eve, and so much more. He couldn’t wait to do all of these things and he told her so.

Ten past nine in the morning and he couldn’t wait any longer. He tiptoed to her door and checked the handle to see if it was locked. It twisted easily and he peeked into the dark room. He could make up the lump of Hermione’s duvet and didn’t even think twice before he bounded forward and leapt through the air, landing bodily on her form.

She gasped in surprise, but he was laughing so hard, she only took a moment to regain her composure. “Harry,” she said, exasperatedly, “what are you doing? What time is it?”

“Come on, Hermione, wake up,” he chanted a few times as he bounced on her mattress. “It’s almost ten, and we have a whole day ahead of us.”

Hermione huffed and rolled over, pulling the cover over her head, only to reveal the bottoms of her feet at the end of the bed. Harry summoned the quill from her desk in the corner and began softly tickling her sole. She twitched her foot from him, but he just began tickling the other, finally succeeding in getting her to laugh and throw her pillow at him.

“Okay, Okay, I’m up now . . . thanks to you, of course.”

Harry smiled at her, enjoying the way her previous eye roll slid away into a happy smirk. He had seen her countless times in the morning or at least right after she had woken up, and he wasn’t quite sure why this time was any different, but the way she looked at him, like she was happy as long as he was there - it made him long to continue to make her happy. “Good, so what do you think? Breakfast, then off to chop a tree down?”

“Yes, yes, but you get to make breakfast while I shower. You did save me some hot water, right?”

He nodded and bounded off the bed in search of the kitchen and his famous eggs and toast.

By eleven they stood behind the building away from Muggles eyes. “Are you ready,” she asked from beside him.

Looking down at the witch by his side, he was more excited than he had been in years. He felt charged and enjoying being alive for the first time in a while. How had he not known that a little time with his best friend would be able to make all the difference in his world?

“More than anything,” he told her. The smile she gave him was infectious, and he felt his own cheeks rise almost painfully in response to hers. She held out her arm to him, and he gripped her forearm before she spun on the spot and they were pulled away into suffocating darkness.

They landed on a hill overlooking a tree farm. Hermione had told him in more detail what to expect, and at first, he had laughed at the idea that someone grew Christmas trees just so Muggles could come to chop them down.

The scent of spruce trees was overwhelming and as he looked around him, he noticed the rows of trees sporadically placed. The sizes of the trees varied, obviously from different years of being planted and different species. In the distance, he could see other types of trees, like fir, pine, and cedar. There was snow on the ground, not so much that it would be tiring to walk in, but enough to really put you in the spirit of Christmas.

“The shop is down the drive a bit. I didn’t want to apparate us too close. Shall we head that way so we can get the saw? They have the sledges too,” she instructed, pointing towards a little house down the hill with smoke rising from its chimney.

“We are doing this the Muggle way,” he told her enthusiastically, grabbing her gloved hand and pulling her towards the stone path leading the way down the hill. His eyes scanned the trees and he asked her, “So, what kind of tree should we get?”

“My mom has a love for the fluffy looking ones, those are called Weymouth Pine. My dad, he always wants to get a traditional spruce. It ends up being quite the argument.”

He looked at her in surprise. “They fight over a Christmas tree?” he asked, wondering how on earth anyone would want to fight over such a thing.

She laughed softly. “They don’t really argue. It’s more of their back and forth banter that ends up with my dad giving my mom her choice of the tree, as long he gets his choice of Christmas dinner, which just so happens to be my mom's favourite meal to cook for him.”

He smiled down at her. So, that is what it’s like to be in a happy relationship. The thought still seemed so foreign, he had no clue what it was like to have someone to go to, someone to rely on, someone that would always be there. Someone other than Hermione, that is.

“I’d like to meet your parents,” he told her before rushing on suddenly, “Well, again, I suppose. I’d like to get to know them better.” When she faced him, he could tell she was unsure of what he meant by his request. “I just think it’s something I should have done ages ago. I’m sure they’ve heard of me, as I’ve heard loads about them. Will you take me?”

They kept walking slowly down the path, she looked down at their clasped hands before answering him. “I don’t see why not, Harry. I know they’d love to know you better as well.”

“Good,” he responded, squeezing their fingers together and then releasing her hand as they approached the shop.

Just under an hour later, they had picked a full yet shorter tree. Hermione thought it was just adorable, and Harry thought she was just as adorable as she danced around the tree exclaiming ‘this is the one, this is the one’. He was just so happy to be sharing this moment with her. Hermione had insisted that she pay for the tree, and when the tree keeper was busy helping another patron, they shrunk the tree and ran around the back of the house to disapparate without notice.

Once back at the flat, they ate a quick meal and set up the tree. Harry was excited to begin stringing lights on the tree and even asked Hermione if she had ever conjured fairy lights, wondering if maybe they would appreciate the extra glow or find it offensive. However, Hermione stopped him from attaching lights or baubles, and instead she insisted that they wait, explaining she had a surprise for him and he’d have to wait until tomorrow to see what it was.

Harry went to bed that night, sleep evading him. The moonlight shined through the crack in the curtains, and he couldn’t help the niggling feeling that had crawled up his brain since the tree farm. Being around Hermione was different somehow. He couldn’t place his finger on exactly what right now, but this whole feeling of happiness wasn’t something he expected to feel, and for some reason, he couldn’t deny that it was because of Hermione.

 


	3. Sugar Cookies & Pleasant Dreams

* * *

She slept soundly that night. Dreams, if she had any, didn’t linger so she woke feeling fresh and rested. Waking before Harry, she half wanted to run into his bedroom and wake him like he had the previous day. Instead, she lounged on the couch a cup of tea steeping on the coffee table. She held her list of Christmas presents and pondered over each person, making notes by each name and crossing others out as she prepared her list. She had procrastinated her shopping this year - something that was highly unlike her.

Still on her list she had her parents, most of the Weasley’s, and Harry to buy for - all the important gifts of course. She was already decided on some of the Weasley’s, and her parents would most likely receive a gift certificate to their favourite restaurant and then she would give them each a more personal gift. This year, she was struggling with each of them though. She wanted her gift to be something special, something meaningful, but coming up with that was evading her.

Harry, of course, had been a struggle as well. She scratched out the previous ideas she had for him: a book on Quidditch, a new scarf, wool socks. No, none of them was right, and now with him staying here, it felt like she should make this gift so much more special. He had been having such a rough time lately, and she wanted to give him something that he could remember this time and grow from it. Nothing was coming to mind quickly, so she stuffed the parchment into the book she was reading, away from prying eyes, and thought about what she had planned for the day.

Sighing loudly she decided it was time to get moving. A slow smile began to grow as she thought of the fun she had in store for Harry today. She knew that he didn’t get to experience the merry little things as a child growing up, and once he was in school the weight of his name took that away too. Walking to her kitchen, she pulled the simple recipe box from its spot in the pantry and rifled through it until she found the one she was seeking.

_Sugar Cookies._

Twenty minutes later, she had bowls covering the counter space and flour everywhere. While she could easily follow directions, she wouldn’t call herself a chef. In fact, baking was her least favourite thing to do in the kitchen. Something, she was sure Harry would tease her about if he knew, considering it was very much like potions. She was so absorbed in measuring the correct amount of sugar to the dry ingredient mixture that she didn’t hear Harry enter the kitchen.

From right behind, close enough she felt his breath on her neck, he asked, “Whatcha doing, Mi?”

Yipping in surprise, she threw her hands up, the cup of sugar being thrown into the air and raining down upon both of them. She spun on the spot, noticing his entire head was covered in the white granules. She couldn’t imagine what she looked like, but the look on his face was shocked, yet wholeheartedly amused. His mouth began to turn up into a smile and he began to laugh.

Swatting him against his chest, she chastised, “You scared the shite out of me.”

This only encouraged his laughter and before long he was doubled over, tears streaming down his face. She couldn’t help but laugh right along with him - the sounds of his joy infectious.

“Oh, that was just so funny. You should see your hair, Hermione,” he choked out.

“Very funny, Harry,” she managed to sober as she felt her hair to realize her curls were tangled with the sticky mess of the sugar. “Oh, bugger, this will be horrible to get out. I should go wash it now.”

Harry straightened quickly, grasping her wrist lightly to keep her from leaving. “No, there’s no point yet. You’re making cookies, right? You’re only going to make more mess.”

He had a point there. Especially, when the icing and sprinkles came. She smiled back at him and reached up to brush some of the sugar from his hair. “I suppose you are right.”

He grinned, and his green eyes brightened. She wasn’t sure when it had changed, but she noticed that his eyes were no longer dull, they sparkled with mischief and happiness in a way that she longed to lose herself in. His eyes were so bright and so full of caring and love.

Breaking her trance, he asked, “So, what can I do to be helpful?”

They spent the next hour making dozens of cookies together. Harry was actually quite the help in the kitchen, and as she suspected, he did rather enjoy teasing her for it. He told her that if she just let him help more often, she would find they make an incredible team. She very much did agree, and they laughed so much throughout the rest of the baking.

Setting the cookies to cool, Hermione waved her wand, charming the dishes to wash. The next part of her surprise was decorating the tree, but not just with the usual baubles and bulbs. This was actually something she had never done before. She sent Harry into the living room to make sure the tree had enough water and she magically heated the kernels so they began to pop. Ten minutes later she walked in to meet him, a massive bowl of popcorn between her hands.

“Are we watching a movie?” he questioned, eyes on the fluffy white snack.

“Oh, that’s a great idea for tonight. We should watch a Christmas movie, but not right now, this is our next task.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “So, our next task is to see who can catch the most popcorn in their mouth. Mi, I know you’re not the best at sports.”

She rolled her eyes at his snark. Something she hadn’t been expecting was the feeling it gave her when she called him ‘Mi. She was never fond of nicknames, and he knew that. He had always called her by her full name and stuck up for her when Ron desperately tried to call her ‘Mione at every turn. Now, he had used the term two times within an hour of each other, and she found when he said it, she rather liked it. It wasn’t annoying because it seemed rather natural to him, almost as if he didn’t realize he was even saying it.

“This is going to be our garland for the tree, Harry,” she told him as though he was a first year, learning how to levitate a feather.

“Will it feed the Nargles too?” he asked nonchalantly.

“What?” she gasped between giggles. “Harry, that’s hilarious. Nargles don’t exist, and even if they did, Luna will tell you they don’t live in Christmas trees.”

After thirty minutes of stringing kernels of popcorn on the thread, she allowed Harry to do the rest by magic. They had spent the rest of the day decorating the tree and the cookies, and savouring each other’s company. A takeaway pizza box sat open on the table before them as _A Christmas Carol_ played on the tube.

Hermione didn’t know the last time she had enjoyed herself so much. Surely, it was when she was a kid, spending days like this with her mum and dad. She was drifting off by the time Scrooge’s ghost of Christmas past arrived.

* * *

He felt Hermione’s weight lean into him as the credits began to roll. He looked down to her, and she was fast asleep, her lashes laying heavily on her cheeks. There was something so right about the feel of her on him. He instinctively raised his arm as her head fell to his chest, and he wrapped her closer into him. With a flick of his wand, the blanket at her feet covered her frame and he closed his eyes, sleep easily taking him for the rest of the night.

He dreamed of her that night. Whether it was the fact that the smell of her shampoo was right under his nose, or if it was the feel of her body next to his. They were laughing and dancing to music as if they were the only two people in the room. He noticed others around them though, off to the side watching them. They all looked happy to be there as the two in the centre were the reason for it. She looked up to him, her bright eyes the colour of melting chocolate, and the words left her lips effortlessly, “I love you, Harry.” His heart soared at those four little words, and he leaned down capturing her lips with his own.

He didn’t want to wake from the dream. The feelings of contentment and peace were enough for him to wish to never wake again. However, the bright rays of sunshine stole his slumber from him and as his eyelids fluttered awake, he found himself alone on the couch. A bit startled at waking on the couch, he recounted the previous evening.

Resting his head on the back of the couch, he let his senses roll over him; he could smell that coffee was brewing in the kitchen, Hermione must be in the shower because he could hear the water running, and the chilly draft in the room was a clue that the fire had died out. Sighing, he sat up and rectified the fire in the grate. The effects of his unconscious thoughts were muddled in his state of waking up. He could admit to himself that he enjoyed the dream rather a lot, there was no awkwardness or shame in it - if anything he would rather it was his reality and that thought kind of excited him.

Going to the kitchen he filled two mugs with coffee and lined a tray with sugar and milk. By the time he was sitting with his own cup made, Hermione was entering the living room, her hair wrapped up in a towel.

She looked at him, a shy smile on her face. “Good morning, Harry. Did you sleep well?”

Remembering the dream and the feelings it suddenly emitted from him, he decided to be honest with her. “Extremely. I haven’t slept that well in ages. Maybe it was the company.”

He noticed her eyes widen a fraction, and a slow creep of a blush crawled up her neck. Hiding his smile into his mug, he sipped his coffee slowly. When she didn’t move from her spot, he motioned to the cup of coffee on the table. “Coffee?”

“Oh, uh, yeah . . . that would be nice. Thanks,” she stammered out.

He had never seen her so flustered. Maybe a couple of times, he suspected when it came to the few people that had attempted to flirt with her. He wondered what she was thinking. Was it even possible that she may have noticed the change in him? Surely, she could, he was fairly obvious just now, but what would her response be? Would she think him nuts, turn him down, heaven forbid, she actually reciprocate the feelings that he just now decided he may have for her.

When did this even happen? Did a silly dream really have the power to change his feelings from one of friendship to something so much more? As he thought about it though, it made sense. Hermione was always by his side. They complimented each other, they challenged each other, what he loved the most was that she made him laugh; and when she laughed his whole spirit lit up like he had been given a dose of Felix Felicis.

“So, Harry, I was thinking,” she interrupted his musings, her voice a bit shaky. He lowered his cup and gave her his attention. “About last night, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. I’m so sorry.”

He smiled, his heart skipping just a bit, Merlin, she was embarrassed. He really didn’t feel like making a deal out of this, and he just now was beginning to understand where his thoughts were going.

“It’s no big deal, Mi. I’m being honest when I tell you I’ve never slept better. Now,” he clapped his hands together as she opened her mouth to interrupt him, “it’s my turn today for a Christmas surprise. I need you to go pack a change of clothes.”

Gosh, she was absolutely adorable when he was able to surprise her. Her eyes widened slowly, and her teeth quickly grabbed ahold of her bottom lip. “Uh, what do you mean a change of clothes?”

“Just something warm, but comfortable for moving around too,” he instructed, rising from his seat and heading towards the loo.

“Harry Potter,” she called his name, a bit of irritation in her voice.

He smiled, his back towards her. Oh, what fun it was to get under her skin this way. “Don’t worry, Mi, this is going to be fun. Now, do as you’re told, and meet me by the door in thirty minutes.”

Harry had to make quick work of his time for his impromptu plan to play out. Luckily, he wasn’t the Chosen One for nothing. He Floo called Kingsley and requested an International Portkey. Kingsley, of course, asked questions, but Harry called in one of the many favours he had over the Minister for Magic, and he ceased his questions in lieu of a Portkey in the form of a small plastic candy cane pen.

He met her by the door of their loft. Her face held an itch of trepidation, but she didn’t ask questions which he felt was a good sign that she trusted him.

“Are you ready for an adventure?” he asked her, tapping the candy cane pen against his lips.

She eyed the pen wearily. “I’m not sure I like the sound of this, and where did you get a Muggle pen like that?”

He shook his head slowly from side to side. “Well, I can’t tell you that now, or I’d ruin the surprise. I will at least let you know it is a Portkey, and it leaves in,” he checked his watch briefly, “thirty seconds.”

“A Portkey? Where are you taking us?”

“Oh, good, so you’re not going to throw a snit about me whisking you away from England for the day?”

“I do not throw fits,” she poked him in the chest, a line forming between her brows.

He smiled, hooking the candy cane around the finger on his front and whispered, “Yes, you do, but I find them rather endearing, so who am I to complain?”

She blinked at him, and he just grinned back; a moment later they were sucked into oblivion, travelling through space and time to their destination. Hermione was thrown forward into his chest, and when their feet finally hit the ground she stumbled backwards. Harry, quick on his feet caught her and pulled her back to him.

Kingsley had come through brilliantly. They landed in a secluded part of a park, and if Harry had to guess, this was a Magical Apparition point - he could feel the enchantments crackle with their arrival. He took the scene in carefully, not even aware that he was holding Hermione rather close and intimately to himself.

The thick evergreen trees held weighted white snow, and the grounds were also blanketed with the thick flakes. People walked the freshly shovelled pathways, enjoying the twinkling lights that were wrapped around each light pole. He could see off into the distance the image that he came to show Hermione. He, himself, had only ever seen it on the telly, and since he was a boy, he had wanted to visit the Eiffel Tower at Christmas time.

“Harry, did you bring me to Paris?” she asked in awe.

He looked down at her as she was taking the sights in herself. Her eyes were focused on the tower in the distance, but his attention had been fully drawn to the witch in his arms. “I sure did,” he told her a bit sheepishly. He went on to explain to her about the time he had seen it on the telly at the Dursleys.

At first, her face held a note of indecisiveness, but the longer he talked, her eyes never leaving his, she melted against him. The more he stared at her, the more he began to understand what her eyes told him. He could tell that she was curious, but also that she was confused. She was easy to read if you knew what to look for - the way her eyes darted back and forth between his own, like she was trying to pin him down, was her attempt at reading him. He let her question him silently and soon, she nodded, her lips sliding up at the corners. She squeezed him slightly around the middle and then wiggled from his embrace. He was momentarily concerned he had misread her, but was relieved when she wrapped her fingers around his and pulled him off towards the path.

“Come on, Harry. Can you believe this is both our first time to Paris, France? I kind of wish you didn’t keep it a surprise. I could’ve done some research on places to visit. A bit of me wishes we could stay longer, there is absolutely so much to see,” she rambled on, a bounce in her step, and once again, he was taken aback at the flood of emotions that she brought from him.

“We can always come back, you know,” he said softly. “Or, we don’t have to leave right away. We still have days before Christmas Eve. We could stay here,” he hesitated a moment, catching her eye, “together.”

She contemplated a moment before what seemed to be resolve settle over her. Her shoulders relaxed and her fingers tightened over his own. “I can’t imagine anyone I’d rather share this experience with. I would love to stay a few days here . . . with you, Harry.”

 


	4. Don't Overthink It - Just Be

* * *

Walking through the park, they quickly decided they would spend three days here in the city. The first day in Paris, they found a hotel in the Wizarding district of the city. It didn’t take much for Harry to convince the front desk staff to let him use their Floo so they could gather things for an extended stay. Hermione didn't mention to Harry that she had, in fact, packed enough for the three days in her beaded bag, something that she had never broken the habit of doing since the war, but of course she took the opportunity to pack a bit more.

She did a bit of research and asked the concierge for some information about the city, and he gladly pointed her in the direction of many attractions. Harry smiled happily every time she mentioned a museum she wanted to visit, replying to her excitedly ‘Whatever you want, Mi.’ She was somewhat surprised by his interest in the paintings and sculptures, but he asked questions and they talked in depth about the art that evening over delicious room service.

On their second day, Hermione insisted she get her Christmas shopping done. They bundled up to brave the cold, winter air and shopped the many venues along Avenue Des Champs Elysées. She was excited to find gifts for her parents and finish up the Weasleys, and while Harry wasn’t looking she had purchased him a snow globe with the Eiffel Tower sitting in its centre, completing her shopping list. They managed to shrink the gifts without notice and stow them away in Hermione’s bag.

“Now, for the highlight of the trip,” Harry announced, “The Eiffel Tower,” he finished, grabbing her hand and pulling her down the street skipping and laughing like they were kids.

The sight was beautiful, the tall monument, an icon of France, wrapped in lights from base to peak. She couldn’t imagine such breathtaking sight, her eyes wide in awe a small smile framing her face.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” she heard Harry whisper next to her.

Reaching out for his hand, her eyes never left the tower. He squeezed her fingers against his own, and she failed to notice that his own eyes were on her instead of the landscape they came to see. Without notice, she felt Harry lean in close and his lips pressed lightly on her cheek, lingering a moment longer than what friends would consider a chaste kiss, but before she could question him, he had pulled her towards the throng of visitors to see the top of the Eiffel tower.

She did not understand what was happening, and if anything frustrated her more it was being unsure of something. How did this man in front of her all of a sudden erupt these feelings from inside of her? She had spent years with him, shared meals together, classes, hell, they even shared a bed together while on the run, but never had she dissolved to a puddle when he would look at her that way, his emerald eyes growing darker. Her stomach would turn over when he would casually link his fingers with hers to guide her in a certain direction, and her heart would not stop its cascading rhythm when he didn’t let go, his fingers only squeezing tighter.

She was afraid she misunderstood his actions, but then he would quirk his head and give her a smile that practically left her breathless and could feel the heat rise to her face at his obvious attention to her reactions.

No, she didn’t understand, but in the moment, she went against her better judgement and she decided to _just be_. For some reason, maybe it was the atmosphere of Paris and the energy of the approaching holiday, but she found herself completely absorbed by Harry. He left her feeling content, relaxed, and at ease. She didn’t have to convince herself to fight alarms ringing in her head because oddly enough, there weren’t any.

“So, now that your shopping is done, Mi, and we’ve seen what I came to see, will you allow me to take you to dinner?” Harry had asked her, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand awaiting her answer.

No, this wasn’t a date . . . right? Hermione’s brain was spinning, and while she wanted to shout yes from the rooftops, she was also trying helplessly to figure out what was happening right now. She tried to reign in her thoughts and feelings, but then he’d give her a lopsided smile or tuck a curl behind her ear, and they would come barreling back to the front of her mind.

“C’mon, Mi. You’re thinking too much. It’s just dinner with Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, what could be so scary about that?”

There was that goofy grin, his green eyes dancing with mirth, and her heart melted at the same time as her laughter bubbled up and out. “You, Harry Potter, are too much, but yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

The sun was sinking, creating a rose gold colour over the horizon as they walked hand in hand to dinner. There were moments when she would get quiet, contemplating the current feel of their relationship, but Harry would always bring her back around with a new topic or pointing something out in a window or on the street that would end up turning into a whole new conversation. Things were easy with Harry, they always had been. The more she really thought about the reality, versus the feelings she was harbouring, it didn’t seem all that implausible. They had just never given their relationship much more thought than what was on the surface - there wasn’t a moment to have considered otherwise.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly during dinner and into the evening, like they hadn’t grown up together. She told Harry stories she had never had the opportunity to tell him before; like when she was bullied in school and didn’t have any friends, she did accidental magic to make peoples pencils break during exams and girls would suddenly trip when walking by their crush. He, in turn, told her stories of his childhood which honestly left her seething mad and ready to march right to Little Whinging and demand to see the wretched people that had raised him.

By the third day, she found herself unconsciously grabbing his fingers, threading them with hers as they left their hotel for their last day in Paris. The smile he gave her was something that made her heart glow, and the second he raised their hands to his lips, kissing the back of her hand she knew that something had completely changed about their relationship. The churning of her belly was excited, but the other side of her logical brain rang out in worry. _Did he feel the same way? What was happening between them? Was this even real, or were they caught up in the moment?_

As they made their way down the street, heading towards a small cafe for tea, she worried.

“Mi, I can hear you thinking from here. Plus, you shouldn’t chew on your lip that much,” Harry said as he pulled her to the side and moved her so that she faced him. “Spill it, what’s up? I have a lovely last day planned for us, and I don’t want that pretty, overthinking head of yours to ruin it.”

She frowned up at him, but noting the smile in his eyes and the pressure he applied to their fingers, she calmed. Sighing, she pulled her hand free from his and worried her hands together.

“Harry,” she finally started, worry thick in her voice. She was so scared of broaching this topic with him, but somehow her heart had been laid on the line without her knowledge. She didn’t know what to do, but surely, she could trust him not to hurt her. “What is happening between us?”

He avoided her eyes, looking past them to the other passerby’s. That gesture worried her, and her stomach dropped heavily like she had swallowed a boulder, but she’d never been one to shy from the truth even if her friends did get upset with her for it.

“Harry,” she pleaded. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just that something feels different, and I . . . Well, I kind of like the change.”

“Really?” he asked, his face meeting hers, eyes dancing back and forth between hers.

Hermione smiled shyly and nodded, but she couldn’t read his expression. After a moment, when he didn’t say more, she said, “I don’t really know what to say now though. What are you thinking?”

He grasped both her hands in his and pulled them to his chest, rubbing lightly with his thumb on the back of her palms. Meeting her questioning gaze, he answered, “It just feels right being with you. I can’t explain it, but I don’t want it to stop.”

“Neither do I, but what does this mean? You just broke off things with Ginny, and our relationship has always been _just friends_. I don’t want to lose that, Harry. You’re the most important thing to me.”

She could feel her eyes prick with tears as her emotions began to surge from her body. She was exhilarated that he felt similar to her, but the fear of the unknown was impalpable. What would happen if things stopped just as suddenly as they had begun?

“Hermione,” he tilted her chin up with a finger, and her heart beat furiously inside her chest. “Let’s just be what we want. Don’t overthink it, just feel what you feel and the rest will come when it does.”

Her eyes didn’t leave his, and she watched, waiting for him to give her a reason for them to just return home and forget this whole ordeal, but then he chanced a glance to her lips and for a brief second she thought he was going to kiss her. She so badly wanted him to do it so that she could know, really _know_ what her heart was saying, while her brain told her to slow down. Instead of leaning down to meet her lips, his eyes leapt back to hers, a bit of a hesitant line forming over his brow.

Before her brain could scream its protest at what her body was telling her to do, his words echoed in her heart _“. . . don’t overthink it, just feel what you feel . . .”_ Using her hands that were clutched against his chest she grabbed his scarf and pulled him to her. Hesitating briefly, she watched as his eyes widened a bit before they darted to her lips again. It was all the tell she needed to raise herself up the rest of the way between them to meet his lips.

It was a chaste kiss for a moment, lips barely touching, but a split second later he deepened the kiss, and moving a hand to the small of her back, he pulled her closer to his chest. She could feel all of him in the kiss, and if he hadn’t been supporting her she worried her legs would have given out. The sensation was almost too consuming - the cold air surrounding them, the scent of Harry all over her, the feel of his palm firmly against her. She pulled away slowly, ending the kiss, eyes fluttering up to meet his.

“I didn’t think it was possible,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

“What?” she asked, almost frightened by his tone.

“Well, two things actually.” She raised her brows in question. “The first being that I would actually get to kiss you here in Paris, I’ve been wanting to do that for at least two days now. The second is that you actually listened to me and stopped thinking,” he finished with a playful smile at her.

Rolling her eyes, she retorted, “First off, I kissed you here in Paris, not the other way around. As far as listening to you . . . well, you said once we make an incredible team, I just happen to agree with you on that topic.”

He laughed lightly, and leaned down to kiss her again. Hermione let herself get lost in his touch, deciding she could think later because all that mattered at this moment was the way his lips worked with hers in a perfect dance.

* * *

Harry wasn’t too sure how long they stood on the sidewalk kissing, but he could’ve done it for the rest of the day. It was a wonder that he was able to stop at all. She had kissed him, she actually snogged him, and it was more than he had been dreaming up the past few days. Of course, he knew she was probably freaking out about their situation, so he tried to soothe her thoughts by making her feel instead of think. What he didn’t quite expect is how responsive she was to this - it actually worked.

The way a blush would crawl up her neck and settle on her cheeks after he told her his honest thoughts of how gorgeous she looked today was emboldening. As they walked through the streets of Paris, he wrapped his arm around her side, holding her to him in a way he had not been so bold before. He had promised her a lovely, last day in the city before they left back to London, and while they didn’t do anything much different than they had the previous days, the energy between them was strong and charged. He reached for her every chance he got - tucking a curl behind her ear only to linger his fingers on her cheek. He guided her everywhere with a firm hand on her back or his fingers circling hers. He couldn’t help but lean down and kiss her as they waited in a line to the Eiffel Tower again, and she responded to every single touch. She would squeeze his fingers as they held hands and lean into his palm when he placed it on the small of her back. Their shared kisses left them both breathless, yet wanting more. It was a sweet and natural play back and forth.

By the time their evening had ended and it was time to travel back to London, they both were a tad hesitant to leave. Would this continue once they were away from France? When they were thrown back into their reality, would they still feel the same way? Harry, for once, did not want to think about what Hermione would do, but he was quite certain that ending this with her would most definitely break him. In such a short time, he had claimed his feelings as absolutely one-hundred percent genuine, and he could not imagine not having her by his side.

She was quiet as they entered her flat and as she moved through the rooms, waving her wand for the lights to turn on and a fire to ignite in the grate, he had feared that it was done. She would hide away from him, wanting to secure their friendship before trying for something more. He was pulled to either give her the space she needed versus sweeping her up in his arms and showing her that he had no desire for their sudden romance to end; if anything he yearned to take it so much farther.

“You’re awfully quiet, Harry,” she spoke softly sitting on the sofa. “A knut for your thoughts?”

He hesitated. While he wanted to know what she was thinking, he was scared he really didn’t want to know. How had they travelled so far in such a short time?

“So, we’re back home now,” he ventured. She raised her brows in return, waiting for him to expand. He signed, knowing he just needed to spit it out. “Do we go back to the way things were before? Do you want _just friendship_?”

She looked down at her clasped hands resting in her lap. When she met his eyes again, he could see her pain and hesitancy in them.

“Harry, above all else, you are my friend, my very best friend. I just don’t -”

Here it came. She was going to end what had happened in Paris. She was going to put a stop to the absolute joy they had experienced all day as if it never had even happened. He couldn’t let her do it. He rushed to her, dropping to his knees in front of her. “Please don’t say the words that end this before we even had the chance to see what it is.”

The warmth of her hands resting on his cheeks was welcoming, but he could feel his heart begin to break knowing what she was going to say. He closed his eyes - he couldn’t look at her.

“Harry, please look at me,” she asked him, her tone soft. He nodded and opened his eyes to meet hers. “Let me finish, okay? You’re my best friend, but I don’t think I can go back to that, not when I know there is something so much more between us. I can’t imagine being okay with just friends when I know, I’ve seen, I’ve _felt_ everything more than friendship.”

He had not taken his eyes from her face the entire time. Each word was like a precious kiss on his heart. How could he have been so naive, so stupid to assume she would just walk away. This was Hermione, his Mi, the woman who had always stood by his side. It was no wonder their bond was so much more, they had never attempted to ignite it, and now that it had been brought to the surface like a raging storm he wanted it all, he needed all of her.

Harry reached up to take her hands in his own. He pulled them from his cheeks and cradled them to his own beating heart. He didn’t have words, but he didn't need them right now. She knew, and told him so by leaning forward to kiss him. Their lips worked effortlessly together, but he needed her to know - he needed to show her that he wanted every bit of what they had to give to each other.

Deepening the kiss, he pushed her back on the cushions as he leaned over her. She reached up to twine her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him harder against her. He could feel her breasts push against his chest and he yearned to have them against his skin. All thought about how slow to go was swiftly ripped from his brain as she lifted her pelvis up to meet his own. Groaning at the contact, he shifted his position to help ease his hardening length.

Gasping for breath, she broke the kiss, and he immediately began to suck and nip down her jawline and neck. She ran her hands down his back reaching the hem of his jumper and began pulling it up and over his head. Harry could hardly decipher what was happening, the energy of their shared passion coming out in waves, but he didn’t quite care in the moment. This gorgeous woman, a person that loved him deeply and he knew he had never loved another the way he did her, she was giving herself to him. When his shirt was over his head, she stared at him, eyes darkened with yearning, before running her palms reverently over his skin.

“Come on,” he said, yanking her swiftly from their position on the sofa.

Her eyes grew wide in shock, and he kissed her hard, feeling something erupt inside his soul that he didn’t know was there before. They walked the few metres to her bedroom, arms working furiously removing items of clothing on the way. By the time her knees hit the bed, she fell on her back completely nude.

He took the moment to rake his eyes over her body. The last few days he had dreamed of this moment, knowing she would be perfect. He was not wrong - her skin was smooth, her curves lovely on her petite frame, and her curls wildly splayed out against the duvet.

Yearning to run his tongue and lips over every inch of her, he started with her ankle and moved up her calf and thigh. The soft noises she made only drove him to move slower as he enjoyed the sighs and moans as they began to grow louder. Inching his way upward over her mound, he inhaled deeply savouring the scent of her. Stroking her centre with his fingers, his cock twitched with anticipation - she was so ready for him. He was not done with her though, and he continued to work his fingers against her clit as he moved up her body with his mouth.

As he reached her nipples, he pulled one in his mouth, sucking hard, as she cried out, fingers twisted in his locks. “Harry, I can’t take anymore. I need you . . . inside me . . . Now,” she panted as she bucked against his fingers deep inside her.

He kissed her then, tongue finally meeting hers with abandonment. She fought him for control and he let her have it, rolling to the side as she moved over him. She rocked her wet folds over him, meeting his tip over her centre as she pushed herself down his length. They both moaned in satisfaction, and he held her hips still as he relished in the glorious warmth of being inside of her.

Slowly, she began to move against him, sliding to his tip and slowly back down sheathing herself time and time again. Raising herself up, he watched as she arched back, her hands using his chest for leverage. She was breathtaking, bouncing over him, her breasts dancing before his face. She leaned her head back, her copper curls cascading down her naked back, and he was sure this woman could not be made more perfect.

Soon her hips began to quicken their pace, and he dug his fingers into her, guiding each thrust. Her moans became erratic, he knew she was close, and Merlin he was barely holding on.

“Hermione, look at me,” he demanded hoarsely. She obliged him, deep gold irises meeting dark emerald. They locked eyes, hips moving frantically together, and he believed he had never seen a more beautiful sight as she came undone before him. He followed soon after her, the sight pulling him blessedly over the threshold. Bodies heaving from exhaustion and satisfaction they laid in each other’s arms, oblivious to the outside world going on without them.


	5. What Roses Mean

* * *

She rested in his arms, her head on his shoulder. It was surreal how perfect she fit in his arms. It was as if she was dreaming, and she had no desire to wake from this most perfect story. Every so often her brain would chime at the absurdity of their situation, but then her heart would hammer against her ribs and she would melt against the man next to her, finding peace in his warm embrace.

After their first night home from France, they chose not to leave the bedroom the following day except for food and a shared shower. The feelings inside her surged each time he looked at her, the way her skin felt like it was on fire when he touched her. She had no clue anything could feel this way, let alone with Harry. It was natural and, that in itself, unnerved her if she let herself dwell on it. Harry seemed to know this, and he worked hard to keep her thoughts at bay. She knew they had time to let this grow and see where it took them. The understanding of it being something that she did, in fact, want to grow was more of what she questioned. How would they tell others of this? What questions would undoubtedly arise? What would Ginny and Ron think?

Promptly pushing those thoughts from her mind she woke slowly the morning of Christmas Eve, Harry’s arm wrapped around her . She had promised her parents that she would visit today, and from the post she had received back they were very much looking forward to Harry coming along too. Thanks to him, she had found a pair of Christmas tree keychains in Paris; one a weymouth pine and the other a spruce. She had wrapped them up the previous evening and was quite anxious to see her parents expressions.

She felt Harry begin to wake behind her, his grip around her middle tightening. He buried his face in the curls at her neck and inhaled deeply. The action sent shivers down her body and she instinctively pressed her bottom to him. He groaned, the movement of his lips against her skin only making her erupt in goosebumps.

"What time do we have to be at your parents?” he asked, his tongue tracing patterns under her ear.

“Not for another hour and a half.”

One hand moved upwards, palming her nipple gently. “That’s a good thing,” he said, using his other hand to spread her legs and tease her wet folds.

She really could not get enough of him. She had never known such a man to give just as much as he could take, and the energy between them was insatiable. An hour later, they were both dressed and ready to leave for her parents. Harry was fidgeting slightly next to her as she righted her purse and presents for her parents.

“You okay?” she asked, reaching up to straighten his collar.

“Just a bit nervous, I suppose.”

Hermione smiled at him, waiting for him to meet her eyes. The worry in them concerned her, but she knew he would be okay. “Harry, they’re going to love you.” Standing on the tips of her toes, she kissed him lightly. “Now, let’s go so we’re not late.”

When they arrived in Hermione’s hometown, snow was falling heavy from the sky. There were nearly two inches already on the ground and the swirling of the grey sky proved it wasn’t going to let up any time soon. She loved the snow so much, especially on Christmas. As she grabbed Harry’s elbow, he responded by placing his fingers over hers and nodding.

“This way,” she said, happily.

The introduction of Harry to her parents had gone just as easily as she expected. Helen and Richard Granger were down to earth people, and they seemed happy to finally get to know the boy they had heard so much about for the past ten years.

“Well, come on into the kitchen with me, Hermione. Brunch isn’t going to make itself, and it’s been a bit too long since your last visit - we have lots to catch up on,” her mother directed her, a knowing smile on her face.

Harry looked momentarily surprised at being left alone with her father, but Hermione squeezed his hand and whispered to him to ask her dad about trains and they would be good to go.

Once in the kitchen, she began chopping up fruit while her mother warmed the skillet for sausages. Hermione knew her mother was waiting for her to begin talking, but she wasn’t quite sure exactly what to start with. _Mum, I’ve fallen in love with my best friend, and I’m frankly terrified that I will fuck this up._

Thankfully, her mother seemed all knowing and began the conversation. “I like Harry. I see why you like him too. I hope you bring him by more often - your dad needs more male energy in the house.”

“I’m glad you like him, Mum. I told Harry to ask Dad about trains, and they’d be just fine.”

“Oh dear, did you really,” her mother laughed. “Your dad will have him in the den all day talking about them.”

“He’ll be fine,” Hermione said through a giant smile thinking of how much her dad was going to ramble on about locomotives. Oddly enough, she realized this was kind of like the first thing they had done that was like being a couple. She frowned at the sudden thought - but what were they? Were they a couple? Did Hermione just introduce Harry to her parents as if they were a couple? She knew that she didn’t say boyfriend when they had greeted them, and thinking back she had not even introduced him as her friend. It had been just a simple ‘Mum, Dad, you remember Harry’.

Dumping the strawberries into a bowl, she reached for the pear to begin cutting it up. “So, how long have you and Harry been more than just friends?” her mother asked her, making her drop the knife in surprise as she faced her mother's grinning face. “Oh, it’s not so hard to see. You guys can’t stop looking at each other, and more than once he went to grab your hand, but stopped himself mid movement.”

“Mum,” Hermione groaned, “It’s complicated . . . I don’t really know what is happening right now. He just broke up with Gin, and things just suddenly happened.” She sighed, tears beginning to grow.

Her mother was there in a second, wrapping her up in a firm embrace.  “Sometimes, love isn’t what we expect it to be, and more often than not, it doesn’t happen how we think it will.”

“I know,” she responded pulling from her mother’s arms to look at her. “I just don’t want to lose him.”

“Have you yet?” Hermione looked at her questioningly. “Harry and you have been to the ends of the earth and back together. You didn’t lose him then, and by the look in the boy’s eyes when he looks at you, I don’t think you need to worry about losing him now.”

“How does something just click when it never did before though? It doesn’t make any sense,” Hermione asked, her worries finally coming to the surface for her to acknowledge.

“Hermione, dear, you know things don’t always have to make sense?”

Her mother’s words rang loudly in her mind. She always tried to make sense of things, ever the logical one, the middle head so to speak. Now, she was blindly following her heart, and her mother was right, she and Harry had always been together - she trusted him and, she knew, he trusted her. Their relationship did come up suddenly, but maybe it was always there just under the surface waiting for their moment to come to light.

Harry and Hermione stayed almost the entire day. They ate dinner together, the men being allowed in the kitchen to help prep, and Hermione rather enjoyed watching Harry interact with her parents. His earlier nerves melted away, and he made it look easy, like he was right at home. When she had gifted her parents with their keychains, they immediately laughed and hugged Hermione tightly. It was a wonderful Christmas Eve, and at dark, they took their leave with a promise to come to dinner next weekend.

Hermione had linked their arms together the moment they stepped off the porch. The look he gave her was one she wanted to remember forever - he looked happy and content. “Thanks for coming, Harry.”

“Hey, I kind of invited myself, but I had a really good time. Your parents remind me of what I think mine would’ve been like.” She assumed he would look resigned or upset, but he didn’t. The look on his face resembled one of peace and calm. She opened her mouth, but he went on, “Mi, would you mind if we made a stop before going back to the flat?”

She shook her head indicating she didn’t mind, and they began to walk down the sidewalk. The snow was thick as they made their towards a point they could disapparate from. He was quiet, and she wanted to give him his peace so she relished the beautiful way the snow sparkled off the lights from the lamp posts and the way her lungs inhaled the crisp cold air. Reaching the place that they had arrived earlier, he looked down at her and kissed her sweetly on the lips.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered, fully trusting him and not even finding a need to ask where he was taking her.

They appeared moments later in a small town she immediately recognized as Godric’s Hollow. The winding, cobbled path was snow covered with dozens of footprints leading to a small church. The windows were bright and they could hear singing as they passed, Christmas Eve service going on behind the walls. Hermione didn’t say anything as Harry led her to a path they had once walked previously, four years ago. The circumstances were much different then, and the ending of that night had not been anything they had hoped for.

As they pushed the wrought iron gate open, the hinges groaned loudly. Her steps were automatic, but she let Harry lead the way towards his parents’ graves. As their stones came into focus, Harry knelt down and brushed the snow away from their names. Hermione dropped to her knees next to him. She waited for him to speak, and it seemed as though he was content to not say anything at all.

Finally, he broke the silence, “I’ve come here every Christmas Eve night since the war.”

Hermione froze, not sure of her own actions right now.

“And, every year,” he continued, “there is a wreath of Christmas roses placed for them.” He turned to look at her, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I remember four years ago, you conjured the same thing for them.”

She felt her own eyes prick with wetness, and her heart hammered against her rib cage. “Harry, I just . . . well, I don’t really know why I do it. It’s just that every year I remember that night and it just feels like the right thing to do.”

He reached for her mittened hand, squeezing her fingers together. “Thank you.”

She pulled her wand from her coat pocket and moved it in a circle, wordlessly conjuring the same wreath of roses. As they formed, she set her wand down and reached for the wreath handing it to Harry for him to place against their headstone.

* * *

Subconsciously, he had known it was Hermione from the first time he had seen the flowers on their graves, but knowing that it was indeed her left him feeling whole. It was as if his whole world had come full circle, filling in the gaps and the holes that were previously left open and raw. The woman next to him did that - she made all the things that didn’t make sense right. How had he not seen it before? She was always by his side, never faltering in her trust of him. She gave herself so freely to him, and he had finally been awoken to her beauty. Her soul, her heart, her spirit was beyond beautiful.

This was a woman who cared so deeply for him that she visited his parents grave to give them something with the only memory she could share with them. Today, she had given him something more - a place in her family. They had so easily accepted him, and he did feel right at home with them. It was a home that was filled with love and laughter, a place he wanted to know. He wasn’t sure what would happen now, but the thing he was most sure of was this witch next to him would no longer be an oversight, she was the only thing he planned on looking at for as long as she would stand him.

They stayed only a bit longer in the cemetery before heading back the way they came. She was quiet, and he assumed she was waiting for him. He smiled, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her to a stop under a lamp post. She faced him, and he brought his other hand to her face.

“Happy Christmas, Mi,” he said before tilting her face up to meet his and kissing her tenderly.

The flush on her cheeks was a gorgeous sight, the look in her eyes as she held his gaze threatened to steal his breath. “Happy Christmas, Harry.” 

* * *

~*~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please leave kudos or a comment if you did. A very happy Christmas to all of you. xoxo


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